


i touch the place where i'd find your face

by womanaction



Series: long distance relationship (phone sex au) [1]
Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M, Phone Sex, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 14:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/womanaction/pseuds/womanaction
Summary: Annie and Abed have an intimate conversation. Post-series PWP.





	i touch the place where i'd find your face

**Author's Note:**

> Usually I don't do this but...

“I miss you,” she sighs into the phone.

Annie talks with Abed at least twice a week. She thinks that’s a lot – it’s certainly more than she talks to anyone else from Greendale. Britta texts sometimes but never calls. Shirley calls (very rarely) and never texts. Jeff almost never contacts her directly, just comments on social media posts and the occasional video message from Britta’s phone. Troy’s still off at sea, although he had managed to send Abed a few excitingly cryptic letters. Britta would get them now, she guesses, since Abed has no way to reply with a change of address. Of course there are the others outside of what she thinks of as the “core group,” those not of the Greendale Seven. She keeps up with them too, a little. Mostly Frankie, but she’s always too busy to call; they mostly communicate in vision-board-esque images of organization. It’s good.

She talks to him at least twice a week. This is an “at least” week. It’s the beginning of the semester, which feels like it should mean something but doesn’t. Her internship has stretched into a temporary position and online classes, but they’re not on a Greendale schedule. She bought new notebooks and highlighters anyway. They sit on a shelf in her tiny apartment, which still somehow feels too big for just her. She doesn’t really like living alone.

“I miss you too.” It’s hard talking to Abed on the phone sometimes, since he doesn’t inflect very much. But it’s still better than texting because she can close her eyes and pretend he’s there with her, imagine the minute changes in his facial expressions. She’d told him that before and he’d suggested video chatting, but it just wasn’t the same. She wanted to picture real Abed, not pixelated and distorted Abed (her apartment’s Wi-Fi isn’t that great, okay).

She stretches herself across the bed, trying to force herself to relax. Another thing that’s more difficult when she’s alone. There’s nothing to take her mind off of the murmuring worries in her brain. It’s much better than when she first started at Greendale, but some nights it’s still bad and she contemplates a million scenarios she’d rather not think about. Sometimes it’s a flood of images and fears, _what if I fail this test what if I left the office unlocked what if someone we’re investigating followed me home_ even though she knows she’s still basically a glorified intern and it’s the farthest thing from logical. Other times it’s just _what if I suck at this what if I’m no good at anything what if I’m no good at all_ on a constant loop.

“I wish you were here with me,” she says softly, letting the phone dangle loosely in her hand for a second until she realizes she might miss his next words. Annie sits up a little and presses it a little more closely to her ear. She could always put him on speakerphone – she knows he does it to her sometimes – but she prefers the intimacy of it.

Maybe their friendship’s gotten a little weirdly intimate overall, she reflects. They can’t talk as easily about the latest Greendale going-ons and they can’t sit on the sofa and watch TV. Sometimes he’ll call her and just say “ _Breakfast Club_ ” or give her a channel number and they’ll pretend that they’re really watching whatever it is together, making little comments here and there. His show isn’t airing yet but it’s been picked up. She wonders if they’ll do the same thing when it airs or if the crew will want to watch it together as it airs, in parties. Abed hates parties, but if it was for a TV show he worked on he probably wouldn’t mind.

“I’ll see you in a few months,” he promises. He’s supposed to come for Thanksgiving, since she confessed to him she couldn’t bear to be alone for it. She wonders how he’ll look in her new apartment. It’s distinctly Annie, but in what she hopes is a more grown-up way than her room at their apartment back home. Her TV is tiny. She bought it mostly so that she could watch with him when he called. The rest of the time she just watches Netflix on her laptop. The screen is only slightly smaller. She’ll probably have to get a bigger TV before he arrives. And somewhere for him to sleep, she supposes. Her couch isn’t big enough.

But she can picture him in this space she’s carved out for herself. She can picture him at her desk, too-long legs sprawled out a bit as he stares down his laptop in concentration. She can picture him tapping his fingers on her fridge as he talks excitedly and waits for the microwave popcorn to finish. She can even picture him staking out her only empty closet as a makeshift Dreamatorium. It’s a walk-in, big enough for two people to run a limited simulation. That’s not why she hasn’t put anything in it, she rationalizes. It’s just because she has plenty of room for her scant belongings already. “What would you do if you were here with me right now?”

She expects him to answer right away, maybe with a comforting callback to one of their many game nights. Instead, he’s uncomfortably silent for a second, and then he says, blunt as ever, “Is that an invitation for phone sex?”

Annie feels herself flush and is suddenly a little glad that he isn’t really here to see it. “What?” she hisses, too quickly. “No!” She’s not entirely sure why she’s whispering, either. It’s not like her neighbors could hear what he said.

“Okay.” He’s silent, and she thinks the subject is dropped. She tries to force her brain into coming up with another topic, _any_ other topic, when Abed unexpectedly continues his thought. “That scenario would be pretty flawed. I’ve only seen pictures of your apartment and it would be distracting to figure out how I became magically transported to D.C. Trying to answer that question would no doubt raise even more questions, and so on, until we would need to have an elaborate mythology as a backdrop for a simple fantasy.” He pauses again. “Actually, that doesn’t sound so unappealing, but I still think there are much better scenarios.”

She shouldn’t be shocked by how much thought he’s putting into this. It’s _Abed_ , she reminds herself. He puts this kind of thought into everything. And he almost certainly isn’t meaning it as a come-on. Annie bites her lip, but she can’t stop herself for long. She hears herself saying “Like what?” in a very small voice. It feels like a dream, but her heart is pounding heavily in her ears and she’s suddenly very aware of her clothes against her skin. She shivers.

This is crazy. _She_ is crazy. She’s asking a man who’s probably her closest friend to describe a good phone sex scenario for them. A man who’s never seen her as any sort of prospect outside of anomalies like paintball and other in-character moments. Before she can make a move to stop him (through her words or just hanging up and pretending this never happened), she hears his voice again. “There would be multiple possibilities, but if I had to pick one? The last paintball.”

Annie doesn’t expect him to stop there. Of course, the one time she actually wants clarification, he’ll make her ask. She wonders if that means he’s uncertain, too, if he is aware of the imaginary line they’re crossing by having this conversation even in the abstract. They’re both hundreds of miles away from the mini-society of Greendale and the roles they’d assumed years ago that would make something like this unthinkable. She clears her throat quietly, now oddly determined as if Abed’s sudden shyness somehow empowered her. “Why the last paintball?” she asks.

He answers immediately, confirming her suspicion that he had been waiting mainly for her permission. “It was near the end of the year, so the versions of ourselves would be closest to who we are now, but it was before either of us knew we were leaving. Leaving would make it bittersweet and complicated. We had already had a Ship Tease that night that wasn’t strictly in character, and after we were both shot we were not useful to the main plot.”

His reasons are straightforward and practical, as she should have guessed. She puts aside her odd sense of disappointment to ask, “What about Britta?”

“She had to work that night, remember? She left straight from the gala.”

“You’ve really thought this through,” Annie says, more flirtatiously than she means to. She cringes a little.

Abed doesn’t reply for a minute. Just when she’s beginning to feel really embarrassed, he finally says, “Also, to borrow my evil counterpart’s catchphrase – you in that dress? Hot. Hot hot hot.”

 _Oh._ This is for real, then, at least on some level. If he had been there, she imagines he’d be watching her face carefully. Of course, if he was here with her, they wouldn’t be having this conversation. “You didn’t look too bad yourself in that suit,” she says honestly. He seems to take it as the permission it’s meant to be.

“We drive home together,” he narrates, slipping into the scenario effortlessly. “I glance over at you. You looked so beautiful and powerful tonight. I wonder if I’m imagining the tension between us.”

“You’re not,” she jumps in, getting lost. She sees it, her from Abed’s perspective, moonlight shining on her hair. Was it a full moon? She leans forward to look it up on her laptop as she continues. “I don’t look at you because I have to catch my breath when I remember us dancing. I know it was just part of the plan, but it felt like…more.”

“I remember kissing you,” he says, and for a moment she forgets it’s part of the scenario. “I never told you this, but I stopped being Han. When the paint hit him, he died, and it was just Abed kissing Annie. This was outside of our pre-defined roles, so I tried to ignore it. But I can’t do it anymore.”

Annie wants to respond, but she knows that paintball!Annie can’t hear paintball!Abed’s thoughts. She also wouldn’t put it past him to be manufacturing thoughts for this fictional version of his past self. “We get home. I try to make conversation, but I’m distracted.”

“By what?” he asks softly, inviting her to make the fantasy her own. She takes the plunge.

> Annie is distracted by Abed’s long fingers as he turns the key in the lock to open their apartment. _Their_ apartment – it seems so intimate, suddenly.
> 
> Britta’s cats meow at her feet as she enters, reminding her that it isn’t their apartment alone anymore. Still…Britta isn’t there.
> 
> Abed is watching her. His dark eyes seem more penetrating than usual in the low light of their apartment. They sweep down her body almost covetously – but that can’t be right. He doesn’t see her that way, outside of…

“Are we playing a game?”

She doesn’t mean for it to be part of the scenario, but paintball!Abed answers her.

> “Do you want to be playing a game?” he asks, brow furrowing. He takes a step closer to her.
> 
> She wishes he would touch her.
> 
> Instead, he just keeps watching her, trying to communicate something. She doesn’t understand. “I don’t,” she answers slowly. “I don’t want to play a game, I mean. I want me to be me and you to be you. I want _this_.”
> 
> He finally reaches out, fingers ghosting across her bare arm. Annie swallows. “But Annie and Abed…they’re friends,” he says. The quietness of his voice seems to soften his monotone. His hand moves to her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear. “They don’t do _this_.”
> 
> After touching her, he pulls away. She knows he isn’t shy, but he is observant and he can be calculating at times. It’s like playing chess. He’s waiting for her move.
> 
> No, not like chess, she realizes. Like dancing. She thinks back to earlier and smiles to herself. Abed is watching her blankly.

Right, he isn’t supposed to be able to “hear” her internal monologue.

> Annie puts her hands around his neck, drawing herself forward. “Maybe they should,” she purrs.

Just because she isn’t supposed to play a character doesn’t mean she can’t infuse her performance with a little more sex kitten.

> She presses her lips to his and it’s like flipping a switch. Gone is the cautious and withdrawn Abed of before. It’s like the Han and Leia kiss all over again except this time she doesn’t have to doubt the veracity of the feelings. She breaks away, gasping for air. He allows her a second to catch her breath before diving back in again. She pulls off his suit jacket as he maneuvers them over to the recliner.
> 
> Annie kicks of her shoes and climbs into his lap, not giving herself a chance to doubt her actions. She recaptures his lips briefly and then kisses a line down his jaw and neck. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Really?” she says, momentarily losing her place. “You – really?”

He seems uncomfortable. “It’s an accurate simulation.” Now that a little of her own concentration has returned, she can tell that he is also a bit out of breath. She wonders if he’s doing it intentionally for realism or if the scenario is actually affecting him to that degree. It _is_ his fantasy, after all.

“Wow,” she breathes, a little too pleased that her simulated neck kisses had drawn a simulated moan out of Abed. She hadn’t imagined him to be this responsive before, at least as himself (at least the first time).

She guesses she should give up even pretending that she hadn’t imagined this before.

“Unpause simulation,” he says authoritatively.

> He immediately begins to return her attentions, kissing her neck and tangling his hands in her hair. If she would have been capable of holding back before, she lost that ability at the first sound he made. She’s making uncontrollable little gasps and moans that would be embarrassing if she had that much perspective.
> 
> Annie shifts in his lap and his hands move to her back, which is more than a little exposed in that dress. She wonders if he was thinking about touching her there all night. The thought makes her feel a little powerful and wanted, and if she was more secure she would just ask him directly. She also feels…

“Um…Abed,” she says awkwardly, not sure how far to take this even though she knows there’s no uncrossing this line. “Would you…did you…are you…?”

He doesn’t catch her drift. “Did I…want to touch your back, as paintball!Annie was wondering? Yes.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to ask.” Even if she is even more flattered now. But she’s read a lot of romance novels and she knows the natural next step to ramp up the passion. “It’s just that I’m…sitting in your lap and I just shifted, and I was wondering…should I feel something?”

She prays she doesn’t have to say more than that. As usual, she’s able to completely lose herself in a simulation with Abed, but talking to him directly about these things is a little more difficult. “Are you asking if paintball!Abed is aroused?” he asks bluntly.

Annie nods before she realizes he can’t see her. “Yeah…”

“Oh. Yes,” he says definitively.

Emboldened, she ventures, “And…real Abed?”

“Also yes.”

“Okay. Good.”

> She also feels something hard pressing up against her. It feels indescribably good to know that he wants her and she tries to communicate her own feelings through even louder responses to his ministrations. His hands move her hair aside to unclasp the hook at the top of her dress. “Is this okay?” he asks, and she nods fervently. The top part of the dress falls away and she feels his eyes bore into her. She isn’t wearing a bra.

She tries to remain in-character, but it’s difficult. Paintball!Annie should probably be feeling a little uncomfortable and nervous, but real!Annie is privy to paintball!Abed’s very honest internal monologue about her breasts.

> “Well…?” Annie says, a little nervous. He’s been silent for what feels like a full minute, but he’s torn his eyes away from her chest and is staring back into her eyes again.
> 
> His hands begin to move over her body again and it feels indescribably good, but looking into his eyes now feels like an even greater intimacy. She wants to close her eyes to feel the sensations more thoroughly but some part of her needs this connectedness, this closeness. His eyes are softer and warmer than she’s ever seen and she’s so lost in them she doesn’t notice for a second that he’s divesting her of the rest of her dress.
> 
> She lets him take it off her then pushes back at him. “It’s your turn now, mister,” she says playfully, taking back a little control. She had tied Abed’s tie only hours prior and now she takes it off him and loops it over the edge of the recliner.
> 
> He watches her unbutton his dress shirt and leans forward to strip it off. She admires his lean body for a second before meeting his eyes again. “Yours or mine?”
> 
> “Yours.”
> 
> It’s only feet away but it’s still a miracle they make it. She feels drunk and giddy and altogether needy. She pushes him onto the bed and he sits and starts taking his shoes off. She’s only in her black panties now, and she applauds her foresight at having worn them.

“Did you really wear those?”

“What?” She’s shocked that Abed would break character.

“Were you really wearing black panties that night?”

“Why does it matter?”

“…accuracy.”

She bites her lip and smiles to herself. “I was,” she says finally. “I remember because the skirt was a little short and when you spun me on the dance floor I thought _at least I’m wearing matching underwear_.”

> Successfully barefoot, Abed has turned to look at her again. She would almost categorize his expression as “hungry.” “Do you need my help?” she asks coyly, nodding to his half-dressed state. He ignores her question. With singleminded focus, he leans forward and peels her panties off. Then, after a quick glance up to her face, he moves her thighs aside gently and presses his mouth to her sex.

She lets out a strangled moan that is altogether real.

> He continues to work at her diligently and she’s glad his clever tongue can find things to do outside of making endless movie references. Her moans propel him forward.
> 
> She’s near the edge, but something is missing. Something she needs tonight.
> 
> “Can you...stop?” she asks, panting.
> 
> Abed leans up and looks at her quizzically. “Do you…not like that?”
> 
> “Oh, I do,” she says quickly. “I just…I need to see you here with me. Just tonight.”
> 
> He cocks his head a little but doesn’t remark on her use of “tonight,” even if it does imply a long-standing commitment. He wipes his mouth hesitantly and looks back in her eyes, making the eye contact she used to find a little discomfiting but now finds utterly necessary. He gives her a small smile and she feels those long fingers replace his mouth. “I’m here with you, Annie,” he says, and she remembers that is a third good use of his tongue. He’s pretty good at comforting her. “I am here with you,” little circles and tickles that send shockwaves through her body.

She comes undone

> too quickly at his words,

falling apart in the best way. She can’t see his eyes for a second behind the fireworks in her mind’s eye. But she still wants him closer, needs him closer,

> so she helps him fight his pants down and wraps her legs around him. He lets out another little moan and this time she knows it’s not just for her benefit. He doesn’t look away as he slides inside her until she drags his mouth to hers in a shuddering kiss. They move together, unpracticed but not entirely awkward, passion making up for inexperience.
> 
> She can feel him close and she brings him back to her for another open-mouthed kiss. She tugs at his hair desperately and he’s gone, totally wrecked, letting out a third long moan against her mouth.

They’re silent for a minute. She can hear her heartbeat slowly returning to normal. Then –

“Do you want to continue to the awkward morning after? Someone will have to be Britta.”

“No,” she says honestly. “I kind of like it this way better.”

“Me too.”

More silence. It’s not uncomfortable. She can imagine him still there next to her, lips swollen and hair a mess. “You’d stay with me, though, right?”

Annie means in her bed, but the way Abed immediately says “Of course” makes her think about the other meaning. What if this had happened between them then? Would things have changed? Would they still be on opposite ends of the country pretending a cell phone was their lover?

It doesn’t matter, she decides.

They stay like that for a few more minutes, utterly silent. Eventually they say their goodbyes and “I love you”s, which seem different now ( _duh-doy,_ of course they do).

After a minute, Annie gets up to put her phone on the charger and brush her teeth. She doesn’t bother to put her clothes back on. She double-checks her phone alarm and glances at the to-do app. Under “long term” she has a list for “Before Abed gets here.” The list reads: Bigger TV, buttered noodles, Christmas gift?, pull-out sofa???

She smiles a little and crosses off “pull out sofa???” with her finger. She starts to walk away but turns back and makes a quick addition to the list. Bigger TV, buttered noodles, Christmas gift?, condoms.

She tucks herself into bed and for the first time since coming to D.C., she doesn’t feel even a little bit alone.

**Author's Note:**

> NOW WITH ACCOMPANYING PLAYMOSS MIX: https://playmoss.com/en/womanofaction/playlist/aa-phone-sex


End file.
